Immunity
by JuSaYes
Summary: Judith has a dangerous secret... she is immune to walkers. The Grimes better run, before medical experimentation ensues.
1. Seven Years and Counting

_The road to Hell is paved with good intentions - _St Bernard of Clairvaux

…

**Seven Years and Counting**

Judith sat up, blinking fervently as she adjusted to the darkness. She could hear the gentle snoring of her father sleeping beside her. Clutching her tattered Mickey Mouse stuffed toy, a flashlight and a gardening sack, she slowly unzipped the tent, and crept outside.

"Ratty, we're going to see Dora, don't tell daddy," she whispered to her stuffed animal.

Making her way through a sea of tents filled with sleeping survivors, Judith scurried towards a huge metal cargo container sitting at the parameter of the campsite. The squeals and scurries of hundreds of rats could be heard from within the metal coffin. Alongside farm-grown vegetables, this was the main source of food for the group. These wild rats had been caught, bred and raised on rotten food scraps in an abandoned cargo container. Judith held the sack at the mouth of the container, opening the door ever so slightly.

Attracted to the moonlight seeping through the crack in the door, a fountain of rats scurried into the bag, and Judith shut the container quickly before the sack overflowed. Knotting the sack tightly, she ran her fingers along the fence till she found the minor kink in the fence that had been patched up by the group with cable wires. Untying the wires, she slipped through the fence, making her way into the dense forest ahead.

"Dora! Dora, where are you? It's Judy!" she called out into the darkness. "I'm here with Ratty, we brought you food."

A tiny child walker with matted black hair and a pink _Dora the Explorer_ backpack, came wandering out of the bushes, towards Judith. Judith handed the sack to the walker. The walker ripped a hole in the sack with its teeth, and began chomping down on the terrified squealing rats. Judith sat beside the walker, stroking its hair and petting its back.

"Sorry Ratty and me didn't come see you yesterday. We were waiting for daddy to sleep, but I accidentally fell asleep first."

The walker ignored Judith, noisily chowing down on the sack of rats. The sack, whilst initially tan, was now stained bright dripping crimson.

"You're really hungry, huh? Not gonna even say Hi?" Judith smiled.

The desperate shrill cries of the massacred rats brought a crowd of hissing growling walkers into the vicinity. Judith sat languidly on the forest floor, watching rows upon rows of walkers march right past her, entirely oblivious to her presence. Judith ducked and shuffled out of the way, as some walkers almost trampled on her. She turned to the child walker.

"How come you don't ever play with them? You should, Dora, you need more friends than just me and Ratty," Judith said.

When the child walker cleaned out the entire sack, Judith peeled the sack from its face. Cupping her hand over its decayed ear, she leaned in closely to whisper. "Dora, guess what? Tomorrow's my birthday, I'm gonna be seven."

The child walker stared straight through Judith, not registering her presence. It was as though Judith were made entirely of thin air. Judith stared sadly back at the walker. "Y'know I'm getting bigger than you. I'm already taller. Do you get sad that you'll be little forever?"

On the lookout for more food to consume, the child walker stood up abruptly, shoving past Judith as it wandered away. Clutching her stuffed mouse, Judith stood up, waving at the child walker, "Bye Dora, Ratty and me will bring more food for you tomorrow."

…

"Rise and shine, sleepy head," Rick smiled, gently shaking his daughter's shoulder. She groaned, turning over on her side, cradling Ratty against her. "Somebody's seven years old today, and we need to celebrate. God knows, every year is one heck of a milestone in this day and age. C'mon, up you get! Your brother's already making breakfast."

"I'm really sleepy, daddy," Judith mumbled, burying her face in her sleeping bag.

"Didn't you sleep well last night, sweetheart?"

_I was up all night playing with walkers… _Judith thought guiltily. "Um… I dunno daddy, just couldn't fall asleep."

Rick ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately. "It's alright Judy. I'll give you another half hour to nap, then I'll wake you up for your birthday breakfast. Trust me, you'll love it. It'll be a refreshing change from rats."

When Rick climbed out of the tent, his son called out to him. "Dad, I can't believe you managed to find pancake mix out there!"

"Yeah, I actually found it 4 months ago, but I've been saving it for Judy's birthday. Figured she ought to try pancakes once in her life," Rick smiled.

Flipping the pancakes over, Carl dropped two onto a plate, sprinkling sugar over it. "No maple syrup sadly, but sugar works too."

Beth came up from behind Carl, wrapping her arms around his waist. She dropped a handful of fresh blueberries and raspberries onto the plate. "Picked a whole bunch this morning specially for today."

Carl turned around, planting a kiss on Beth's lips. "Nicely done, babe."

Beth leaned in, murmuring in Carl's ear, "I may be a cougar for saying this, but I'm up for round two tonight, if you are."

Carl grinned devilishly, "Always."

"Geez, get a room, kids. It's like a freakin' soap box in here," Daryl laughed. "And fix me a plate. I ain't got all day!" Carl began plating sugared pancakes and raspberries for everyone at the table.

"Judy, you better get out here before we clean out all the pancakes," Carol called out.

Clutching her stuffed mouse, Judith climbed out of her tent, yawning and bleary-eyed. She stared at her plate, prodding the strange doughy brown circles with her fork. "Daddy, what's this?"

"They're called pancakes, kiddo. Kid has no problem eating barbequed rats, but turns her nose up at pancakes," Rick laughed, taking a bite out of the pancake.

"Ugh awful! Carl, it tastes just like your mother's," Rick joked. Rick's face instantly fell, his eyes downcast. "Sorry, son, I didn't mean to-"

Beth squeezed Carl's hand sympathetically. Carl glanced at his father, "Don't be. We should talk about mom. If we don't, it's like she never existed."

"Right. You're right," Rick said quietly. "God, to think it's been seven years since… I do miss her, terribly, every day of my life…" Rick's voice trailed off unsteadily, and the table fell into awkward silence.

"Shit, maybe we shouldn't have chosen pancakes for her birthday, of all things," Carl muttered.

Judith stared morosely at the pancakes, suddenly losing her appetite. It was _she_ who had caused her mother's death. The day she was born was the saddest and most horrific day of her father and brother's lives; that much she knew. Beth noticing the palpable tension between father, son and daughter, began singing awkwardly, glancing around at everyone, hoping they'd join in. Nobody did.

"Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Judy, Happy-"

Judith stood up abruptly. "I'm not hungry," she mumbled, running from the dining table.

"Judith!" Rick called out to her.

"Leave her be, Rick," Carol said gently.

Judith could already feel hot tears springing into her eyes as she ran. Feeling the crushing weight of guilt, particularly acute today, on her birthday which was also the seventh year anniversary of Lori's death, Judith ran towards the cargo container, filling her tattered backpack with rats when no one was watching. Slipping through the kink in the fence, Judith ran into the depths of the forest, collapsing onto the forest floor panting, as she waited for her friend to arrive. Sure enough, the child walker came stalking from out of the bushes wearing its pink _Dora the Explorer _backpack, tiny hands outstretched, clawing for Judith's backpack. Judith stared at the walker's rotted pallid green face and brown bared teeth.

"Hey Dora, me and Ratty are here," Judith greeted. "I've never seen you in the day time… You're like, really ugly," she cringed, unzipping her backpack. The rats, glad to see sunlight, spilled out of the bag, and into the child walker's outstretched hands. Sighing sadly, Judith stroked the walker's matted black hair, and adjusted its floral headband.

"You may be ugly, but you'll get to live forever. That's more than mom ever got."


	2. Cherokee Rose

_There is some kind of sweet innocence in being human, being both broken and whole, all at the same time _- C. Joybell

…

**Cherokee Rose **

Sitting on the forest floor with Dora the walker, with her stuffed mouse tucked under her armpit, Judith unzipped her black backpack, pulling out a thick tattered sparkly pink notebook from the sea of squirming rats. The child walker snatched the backpack from her, eagerly shoving its face into it.

"I know what you're gonna say, Dora. You didn't know I was lame enough to have a sparkly pink diary, But it's not mine," Judith confided, "It's Beth's… I snuck into her tent and took it."

Ignoring Judith's chatter, Dora chomped down hard, beheading the rat. The headless body scuttled around the forest floor. Any other little girl would've screamed at the sight, but as someone who'd only ever known a world of chaos, violence and life among the living dead, Judith didn't even flinch. Instead, she picked up the severed rat by the tail, dangling it in front of the child walker. The walker turned to Judith, staring straight through her, as one would a ghost.

"Dora, don't look at me that way. I didn't steal her diary, I'm just borrowing it," Judith said, stroking Dora's matted black hair.

"Daddy always said mommy died in a car crash after I was born. But last week I heard Mick and Johan saying weird stuff about how mommy died. I kept asking daddy and Carl, but they kept lying and lying that it was a car crash. I know they were lying, I could see it all written on their sad guilty little faces," Judith muttered darkly.

Judith snatched her bloodied backpack away from the child walker, "Pay attention, Dora, this is important."

The walker hissed and growled, scrambling for the backpack and its' furry contents. Sighing, Judith threw it back at the walker. "Fine, have it your way, you never listen anyway."

Judith propped her stuffed mouse on her lap and opened the sparkly pink notebook to a page she had dog-eared. "Anyway, there's something me and Ratty wanted to show you."

Judith pointed at an entry dated 7 years ago. "Look! 24 August 2013. That's my birthday. The day I was born. That's why I had to take her diary. Daddy and Carl just kept lying and lying, and I needed to know, Dora. I needed to know how did mommy die!"

Judith lay on her back, with one arm curled around the back of her head, as she read portions of Beth's diary entry out loud to Dora.

…

"… _It's like everyone I love are destined to die on me.__ First Mom, Lacey, Duncan, Arnold, Sophia, Patricia, one by one, everyone I ever knew or loved, dropping like flies. And now, just when I thought we'd found hope in our new home, today it was T-Dog and Lori, taken from us, just like that…"_

"…_The baby wasn't coming out right, Lori was just screaming in pain, lying there on the cement floor, trapped in a dark tiny little room with Maggie and Carl, who were totally at a loss as to what to do…"_

"…_Lori knew it had to be done. She was dying, and she wasn't taking her baby with her. So she begged. Begged Maggie to do it, and my sister, my sweet brave, courageous sister took a knife from Carl and did it. All in spite of Lori's screams…"_

"…_Most of all, my heart breaks for Carl. He's only 12 years old. To be forced to put a bullet between his mother's eyes, no adult, let alone child, should ever have to do that. God only knows how he will recover from the trauma…"_

…

Judith shut the diary, watching her walker friend sadly. "There you have it, Dora, I killed mommy."

Stirred by the squeals of Dora's lunch, the walkers made their way to Judith, only to walk right past her, completely oblivious to her presence. Angry and heartbroken, Judith kicked a passing walker so hard in the shin, that it's decayed bone snapped, sending the walker tumbling down onto the ground. It growled furiously, clawing aimlessly at the earth, before hauling itself back up again, marching on, with its severed foot attached by a single sinew, dragging along behind it.

"There was no car crash. Maggie never pulled me out of mommy's arms, she pulled me out of mommy's tummy," Judith wept.

Dora, having finished its ratty lunch, dropped Judith's bloodied backpack from its jaws, and wandered away. Judith watched, as its pink vinyl _Dora the Explorer _backpack disappeared into the forest. Turning onto her side, Judith hugged her stuffed mouse tightly, drawing her knees up to her chest, as she proceeded to weep. Her heartbroken cries echoed eerily through the forest, stirring the walkers in their wake.

…

"She's not in our tent, where the hell is she?!" Rick demanded.

"Chill, dad. She's probably at the rat farm," Carl said.

"Why would she be there?" Carl snapped.

Carl shrugged irritably, "Because it's her favourite hangout spot? Do you even know her?"

Carl ran off to search the rat farm. Beth approached Rick anxiously "She's not in our tent."

"Couldn't she be in one of the other tents, playing with the other kids?" Rick asked impatiently.

"She doesn't exactly interact with any of the other kids," Beth said. "Pretty much keeps to herself, and plays with the rats."

Carol jogged towards Rick, "She's not at the veggie patches either, I combed the place out."

"Dad, she's not there!" Carl called out from the rat farm.

"Dammit," Rick muttered, kicking the dirt. "She's not at the dining quarters, your tent, my tent, the rat farm, the veg farm, where the hell else is there to be?!"

"Like you said, ain't nowhere else to be around here, so she gotta be out there," Daryl surmised, nodding towards the forest.

"There's no way she snuck out through the main gates, the sentries would've seen her. She must've slipped through the kink in the fence," Carl breathed, running towards it the fence.

Slinging his bow and arrow over his shoulder, Daryl waved the group forwards, nodding at the line of tiny footprints in the mud, at the foot of the fence. "She went this way!"

As the group ran through the forest, slicing their way through the thick vegetation, it wasn't before long that the little girl's tracks led them straight into a huge crowd of hissing snarling walkers.

"Oh God, there's blood everywhere," Carol gasped, horrified.

"That's her backpack," Beth whimpered.

From the thick of the crowd, Judith's torn black backpack could be seen, and all around, the surrounding grass was stained crimson with fresh blood. It was plain to everyone, that they were all too little too late. After all, this was an unarmed seven year old child with no prior combative experience, they were talking about.

"She's gone," Carol whispered. "There's nothing more we can do for her."

"No, no! That's my baby, that's my little girl in there!" Rick yelled, charging forwards. Carol grasped his arm.

"Don't risk your life when it's already too late," she said quietly.

"Get fuck off me," Rick snarled.

Shoving Carol off roughly, Rick ran into the crowd of walkers, gunning them down. When he was out of bullets, he hurled his gun to the side, and began manhandling and wrestling the walkers; spearing their skulls with his pocket knife. Carl broke out of Beth's embrace, sobbing furiously, as he ran to join his father.

"You fucking assholes! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you all for doing this to my baby sister!" he screamed, shooting the walkers, and stomping on their faces, sending skull fragments flying like shrapnel. Daryl began feverishly firing arrows into the crowd of walkers.

"Stop, we're low on ammo as it is! She's already dead," Carol cried. Daryl turned to face Carol, his blue eyes blazing.

"Fuck ammo! We ain't leaving lil ass-kicker out here; she's coming home with us! She deserves a proper burial with a Cherokee rose on her grave."


	3. The Chosen One

_The greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places_ - Roald Dahl

…

**The Chosen One**

Rick lost himself in the thick of the stench of rotting flesh, the noise, snarling, hissing, growling; the multitude of decayed arms grabbing for him, and pointed teeth snapping at his neck. Suddenly, a tiny pair of arms came up from behind him, and wrapped themselves around his legs. Acting instinctively, he reached over, driving his knife in hard. What followed was the most blood curdling scream he ever heard in his life. That voice, it was unmistakably human. Rick whipped around, and saw his daughter pouring with blood, as she fell face forwards into the earth.

Dropping his knife to the ground, Rick fell to his knees, lost in the crowd of hungry walkers. He hauled his limp bloodied daughter into his arms, screaming and weeping loudly into her matted blonde hair. A walker grasped him by the shoulders, ready to clamp its jaws around his neck. Carol stabbed a knife through its skull, and dragged it off the hysterical Rick. No longer having any will or spirit to fight, Rick remained cowered on the forest floor, cradling his limp unconscious child, rocking her back and forth. It was up to the rest of the group to slay the remaining walkers, which they did with rage and gusto. When the final walker fell into a stinking rotting pile around the group, Daryl hauled Rick up by the collar of his shirt.

"Get up. Pull yourself together, brother," he huffed. "Give her to me, give her here! We gotta get her back to base camp!"

Still on his hands and knees, Rick cradled his child protectively, "Don't you touch her."

"We gotta get her to Hershel! Now!" Daryl shouted, reaching out for Judith.

"Don't be so fucking stupid," Rick muttered, as tears ran down his face.

The realisation hit Daryl, and he glanced around at the circle of heartbroken faces. Rick had stabbed his daughter with a knife covered in walker-blood. She was bound to turn, it was only a matter of time. Shaking and sobbing loudly, Rick picked up his knife, holding it unsteadily above his daughter's forehead. Carol walked up to Rick, gently taking the knife from him.

"I'll do it," she whispered.

As Carl turned away, almost collapsing with grief, Beth caught him, drawing him into a tight hug. Beth stroked Carl's hair, as he sobbed uncontrollably into her shirt. Rick cupped Judith's pale pallid face, pressing his forehead against hers. He could see Beth's blood-soaked diary lying on the ground beside his unconscious daughter.

"Daddy's so sorry, daddy's so sorry, Judy," he wept. "I should've told you, I should've told you about your mother… If I had, you would've have had to find out this way! You wouldn't have run away! Oh God… What have I done, I'm so sorry."

As Rick cradled his child, Carol held her knife at her forehead, waiting for her to turn. Carol placed on hand on Judith's chest, feeling the fading rise and fall of her chest. Eventually Judith's lungs gave out, she stopped breathing, and it was all over.

"She's gone," Carol said quietly.

"Oh God, ohh God, my baby girl," Rick wept.

In a minute, dead little Judith would reanimate. But the minutes ticked by, and little Judith remained unchanged, lying like a rag doll in her father's arms. Rick looked up at Carol, his face etched with confusion.

"Shouldn't it- Shouldn't it h-have happened by now?" he sobbed.

Carol looked up at the others. Beth stared at her watch, "It's already past the 4 minute mark, she should've changed by now."

"Wh-Why is it… t-taking so long?" Carl wept. "I-I just want this over, I just want it over already!"

Out of the blue, Daryl shoved Carol out of the way, and made a grab for the dead little girl, throwing her over his shoulder.

"Daryl, what the hell are you doing?!" Rick snarled.

"She ain't turning! Hell, I don't know why she ain't, but she ain't!" Daryl yelled, as he started running.

"He's right, if she was gonna turn, she would've done it 4 minutes ago," Carl muttered. Swiping his eyes dry with the sleeve of his shirt, he ran after Daryl, and the rest of the group followed.

"Carl, stay close to Daryl in case she turns!" Carol called out.

Carl pulled out his pocket knife, holding it at Judith's head, as they ran. As the group neared base camp, Rick tore ahead, waving wildly and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Open the gates! Somebody get Hershel!" he screamed.

"Oh God, Judith! I'll get daddy!" Maggie yelled, as she raced through the sea of tents, towards the dining area.

Hearing the sounds of a screaming man, hordes of walkers began surrounding the group. The sentries opened the gates to base camp, and residents ran up to the fence, slipping their guns through the fence and firing at the walkers. As the gates closed, Rick snatched his daughter from Daryl, and tore after Maggie. Sitting languidly on a wooden log, with a bible open on his lap, Hershel's face snapped up in shock, as he heard Maggie and Rick yelling at him. His jaw dropped at the sight of the limp bleeding little girl. She was pale as a ghost, her lips tinged blue, and her entire blue shirt was stained crimson.

"She's not breathing," Rick gasped.

"Put her down!" Hershel yelled.

Rick's face paled, misunderstanding. "What?! No! She's not- She's hasn't turned!"

"I mean, on the ground, put her on the ground," Hershel huffed. "Keep a knife at her head!"

Rick lay the dead Judith on the grass, and Hershel fell to his knees, as he began pumping Judith's rib cage vigorously, and blowing air into her lungs. Holding a knife at his daughter's head, Rick stared at her pale corpse warily, bewildered that she remained lifeless and still on the grass, entirely untouched by the virus. _Why? Why isn't she reanimating? What does this mean?!_


	4. Rebirth

_Sometimes even to live is an act of courage - _Seneca

…

**Rebirth**

Hershel pulled away from Judith, "She's breathing. Get her into the first aid tent, she's lost a lot of blood," he panted.

Rick's heartbeat raced at a million miles per hour. _She's breathing! She was dead, but now she's alive… She never turned, didn't reanimate… _He scooped up his little girl, rushing her into the first aid tent. In the middle of the tent, was a makeshift surgical table Hershel had crafted from forest wood.

"Rick, to your right, pull out a plastic sheet to lay her on," Hershel huffed. "The table isn't sterile."

Rick rummaged through the box, pulling out what was effectively a cut-up gardening bag.

He spread it on the surgical table, and Hershel lay Judith upon it. Hershel tore Judith's shirt open, hurling it to the side. Rick choked with grief when he saw it. Judith's small fragile frame, her bare skin coated in a thick layer of blood. Upon her shoulder, near the base of her neck, was a deep clean black penetrating knife wound. Maggie scrambled towards the boxes of medical supplies, rummaging through it. There wasn't much first-aid supplies left, the group had almost cleaned the entire stash out. They were more than overdue for a medical supply run. Maggie pulled out a bottle of vodka, rolls of bandages and a rusty set of veterinary surgical instruments and thread.

"Daddy, we're out of antibiotics!" Maggie yelled.

"Just make do!" Hershel yelled. He turned to Rick, "I need to know. Was the knife clean?"

Rick hesitated. "Rick! I need to know," Hershel repeated. "She died, Rick, she died, but she didn't turn. I don't pretend to understand why, but nevertheless, I still need to know, was the knife clean?!"

_The knife was completely soaked in Walker blood… And yet here she is, lying on this table, completely unchanged… What does it mean?! _

"… It was clean. T-The knife was clean," Rick lied.

Hershel's brow furrowed. "You don't sound so sure… Maggie, get some restraints on her!"

Maggie ran over to Hershel, dropping the supplies at Hershel's feet. Maggie tied both of Judith's arms firmly to the wooden surgical table with rope. Pouring vodka onto a rag, Hershel sterilized his hands and Judith's entire torso. Rick, feeling like a helpless caged animal, paced up and down the tent, his mind imploding in a whirlwind of crushing confusion and blinding terror. Maggie passed Hershel a straight surgical needle and thread.

"No, I need a canoe needle. It's the curved one," Hershel said. Maggie passed Hershel the curved needle, and Hershel dug it into Judy's muscle tissue.

"I wish this needle wasn't rusty, but we'll have to make do," Hershel muttered. Maggie pressed two fingers against Judith's neck.

"Daddy, her pulse has dropped to 44 beats per minute."

"She's circling the drain, she's lost too much blood," Hershel muttered to himself.

"I'll give it to her! I'll give her my blood," Rick breathed.

"This wound is very deep, stretches through to her underlying muscles… I need to sew it up in layers," Hershel thought out loud.

"Hershel! You she needs blood! Take mine!" Rick yelled.

"Go find Beth or Carol, they're the only ones who know how to take blood. I need Maggie by my side assisting."

Rick tore out of the first-aid tent screaming for Beth and Carol. "Somebody get Beth, get Carol! Beth! Carol!"

"You keep counting that pulse, Maggie, and tell me if it drops below 40," Hershel instructed. Maggie wiped excess blood with a vodka drenched cloth from Judith's wound, as Hershel continued to sew.

"Daddy, we don't know Judy's blood type," Maggie said uncertainly.

"I know, honey, but we'll have to take a chance. It's her only hope for survival," Hershel replied. "50/50 she has the same blood type as her father."

Rick and Beth burst into the first-aid tent, and Beth rushed to gather supplies. She wiped Rick's arm with whiskey, then pulled out the blood collection kit, assembling it with shaky hands.

"Shit, I can't find the cuff," Beth muttered. "Where's the cuff?"

"Use your jacket," Rick instructed. Beth threw her jacket off, tying the sleeve tightly around Rick's forearm. She stuck a needle into his arm, and blood flowed into the collection bag.

"God willing Judy has the same blood type as you," Beth said.

"Daddy, her pulse has dropped to 39," Maggie said, alarmed.

"Oxygen, now!" Hershel yelled. Maggie ran to the supplies kid, pulling out an oxygen pump. Slipping the mask over Judith's face, she began pumping.

"Slow and steady pumps, Maggie, like I taught you," Hershel reminded.

"I know, daddy, I know," Maggie said, as she pumped with one hand, keeping the other on Judith's neck for a pulse.

"Pulse at 41 now," Maggie updated.

"Good, keep pumping, she's hanging in there," Hershel said. Beth ran to Judith, sticking a catheter into her arm, feeding Rick's blood into the pale unconscious little girl.

"Alright, the moment of truth. Come on, Judy, come on," Hershel muttered, as he sewed the final layer of her flesh.

Rick ran to Judy's side, taking her hand. "You can do this sweetheart, you can survive this."

"The pulse, it's rising, sitting at 48 now," Maggie updated.

"Good, good, it means the blood is taking, you have the same blood type as her, praise the Lord," Hershel sighed.

As he pulled the final stitch through, closing Judith's wound, he snipped the stitch, and wrapped the wound in bandages.

"Pulse at 45," Maggie sighed. Hershel swiped sweat from his brow.

"Keep pumping that oxygen, Maggie, till we get her up to 60," Hershel instructed.

"She's okay right? She's gonna be okay, right?" Rick demanded, looking deathly pale, his face beaded with sweat.

"Stay still. You're giving her a lot of blood here, you're going to be anemic for a while, we don't want you passing out," Hershel warned. Rick massaged his forehead feeling lightheaded and dizzy.

"Beth, electrolytes, now," Hershel said.

Beth filled a cup of water, stirring a spoonful of salt and sugar into it, handing it to Rick. "Here, drink this, all of it, slowly."

Rick sipped, cringing. "Beth, what the hell is this?"

"Sugar and salt water. I can't give it to you plain, you're low on electrolytes," Beth explained.

"Listen to my daughter, Rick, and drink up. She knows what she's talking about."

"Pulse up to 54," Maggie updated.

"That's good, right? It's almost at 60, she's gonna be okay, right?!" Rick demanded.

"Beth, get some blankets on her. Keep her warm," Hershel said. Beth unzipped a sleeping bag, placing it over Judith.

"I need to know, Hershel, I need to know! Is she gonna make it?" Rick repeated.

"She's not out of the woods yet, by no means. But yes, I'm confident she'll make it. Your blood is replenishing her system. We just need about a liter more from you, then we're done."

Rick closed his eyes, sheer relief flooding through him. Hershel smiled kindly at him. "For the last time, Rick, drink your water."

* * *

A/N: thanks for reading! As you can see, Hershel is alive and well in this story. A lot of now-dead characters will feature in this story, save and except for Lori because I hate that biatch hahaa (and of course because her death is integral in Judith's story). Plz fave, follow & review. I love reading reviews xxx Missineichen


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